


hammer & axe

by nowrunalong



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27448423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowrunalong/pseuds/nowrunalong
Summary: "What other tools do you have for—?” Faith makes a swinging motion with both hands, pushing her whole body into it.“Gardening?” Tara asks, frowning.A collection of short Faith/Tara works.
Relationships: Faith Lehane/Tara Maclay
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	1. guides

**Author's Note:**

> These fics were originally posted in 2017-2018. I am re-uploading several of my deleted femslash works in the hopes that someone out there might enjoy them again.
> 
> Excerpt in summary is from Chapter 2.
> 
> Ch1: Faith goes on a vision quest. Post-series.  
> Ch2: Tara's working at Home Depot when she meets an interesting girl. Early season 3.  
> Ch3: Tara has a secret admirer. High school AU.  
> Ch4: Faith and Tara got married in Vegas. Established relationship.  
> Ch5: Faith and Tara are couchsurfing together. Established relationship.  
> Ch6: Tara knows that Faith is running away after a one night stand.  
> Ch7: Faith and Tara have a drunk conversation. Established relationship.  
> Ch8: Faith and Tara go to a theme park with Buffy and Willow. Established relationship.  
> Ch9: Faith gets Tara to help her throw a party. Established relationship. Side Buffy/Willow.

Faith still isn’t sure why she’d agreed to do the whole sacred quest thing, but maybe watching a whole town collapse into the earth makes a chick introspective like that. Giles had offered to come with her, but Faith had opted to go it alone, accepting his car with a promise that she wouldn’t die and leave it there alone in the middle of the desert.

She walks for a long time, bare toes in the sand, shoes stuffed into her backpack, and doesn’t stop to build a fire til after nightfall. Once the fire is roaring, Faith settles down against a rock and holds out her hands, enjoying the heat in the chilly evening.

A few minutes later, a girl sits down next to her, pulling her legs up to her chest like she’s cold.

“Uh,” Faith says, because this was a turn of events she hadn’t expected. “You sure you got the right fire pit?”

“Guides can come in different forms,” the girl replies softly.

“Buffy’s was a big cat,” Faith says, nodding. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but the cat’s a helluva lot more badass. I’m really not really digging the get-up, for starters.”

The girl looks away and hugs her legs closer.

“It’s nothin’ personal,” Faith says, in lieu of an apology. “Just, you know. Question of curiosity or whatever: _can_ you change it? Or are you stuck in that shirt forever?”

“There are, um. There are probably more important questions you could be asking.”

Faith frowns as she takes in the girl’s awkward demeanor and frumpy clothes. “Have we met before?”

“Once.”

“At the Bronze,” Faith says, finishing the thought. “So you’re a real girl, huh?”

The girl doesn’t answer. Faith tries to remember her name, but it’s not coming to her. In her defense, that whole day had been a bit of a whirlwind, what with the body-swapping and the nearly-getting-arrested.

“Tara,” her guide says helpfully. “That’s my name.”

Faith frowns. “Hey. No Jedi mind stuff.”

“I wasn’t,” Tara says. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to invade your privacy or anything. I’m just here to help you with something. But first... you have to figure out what you want to know.”

Shrugging, Faith turns back to stare into the fire.

“Why did you come here?” Tara prompts her gently.

“Why you?” Faith asks, ignoring the question. “Why are _you_ here?”

“I think maybe we’re similar in a lot of ways.”

“Yeah?”

Tara uncurls herself a little and stretches out her arms to feel the heat, an echo of Faith’s pose.

“It’s nice here,” Tara says, closing her eyes.

“Real peachy. Look, I don’t know, okay? This wasn’t my idea. I told Giles I was feelin’ kinda restless and he went on and on about this soul-searching bullshit til I told him I’d do it.”

“You could have gone anywhere,” Tara points out.

_She’s got you there, Lehane._

Faith shakes her head. “Fuck it. This was a bad idea. I should go.” But she doesn’t get up, and she doesn’t move her hands away from the fire.

“You say a lot of things you don’t mean. Why is that?”

“I thought I was supposed to be asking the questions, T?”

Tara smiles crookedly. “Ask away.”

It’s hard—it’s damn near impossible—to put emotions into words and tweak them into questions that can be spoken aloud.

“I was alone, too,” Tara says, unprompted. “For a long time—all my life, really. Until I met Willow and the Scoobies. But I wasn’t sad about it, ‘cause I felt like... like it was what I deserved. To be alone. To be... unloved. And it was what... what th-they told me. So I believed them.” She closes her eyes again and takes a deep breath. “I think... I think you know what I mean.”

If it were anywhere else—anyone else—Faith would have scoffed and made some kind of sarcastic comment, sharp words flying from her mouth like arrows to deflect any semblance of a serious conversation. But this isn’t anywhere or anyone else. It’s just Faith, and Tara, and an empty desert.

“Yeah,” she says simply.

They sit in silence for a while, listening to the fire crackling merrily as it eats its way up the branches Faith had collected.

“So what’s the lesson?” Faith asks. “You said I was supposed to learn somethin’ here.”

“You’re not gonna like it.”

Faith rolls her eyes and shifts in the sand to face Tara. “Why not?”

“Because I can’t just tell you.”

“So—what?”

“It’s like a poem, of sorts. It’s kinda cryptic.”

“Fuck that.”

Tara smiles apologetically. “Do you want to hear it?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Faith says. “Hit me with it.”

Tara nods. “Okay.” She turns to look Faith in the eye. “A heart of stone awaits one who walks alone. / The light of sun awaits those who walk as one. / When you follow your guide and divide truth from lies / You will then realize through the strength of allies / That the light that's inside you can no longer hide."

“Did you write that? 'Cause if so, we're gonna have a confrontation.”

“No. It came from her.”

“Who?”

“The first Slayer.”

“So you’re—what? Her mouthpiece?”

“She has many.”

Faith drops her hands from her knees to the sand, picking up a handful and throwing it into the darkness behind her. "Her poetry's shit."

They’re both quiet for a moment longer. 

“I have to go soon,” Tara says, although she makes no move to stand up.

“Got a hotter date lined up?” Faith smiles teasingly. “‘Cause if that’s the case, I’d like to meet her.”

“I’m just... I’m not allowed to stay very long.”

“Wait,” Faith says, realization striking her in the face like an open palm.

Tara smiles, answering the unspoken question, and it’s both comforting and tragic. “Damn. The good ones just keep goin’.”

Tara stays til Faith has fallen asleep, two hours later. She’s gone when Faith wakes up. There’s no imprint in the sand where she had sat—nothing at all to indicate that she had been there except for the words she’d left with Faith.


	2. hammer & axe

“Hey. You got a minute?”

Tara looks up abruptly and finds herself face-to-face with a girl about her age, dark eyes and dark lips twisting into a smile at Tara’s wide-eyed surprise. Tara shifts awkwardly behind the counter, adjusting her orange apron with unnecessary care.

“Um. Yeah. You—you need something?”

“I gotta find some stuff. You know, a girl’s gotta have an axe.” The girl shrugs as though this is a perfectly normal thing to say.

“R-right.” An axe? “Um. That’s—that’s aisle seven.”

“Well, come on,” the girl says. She looks at the name badge on Tara’s apron. “...Tara,” she finishes. “I got some more questions for you. Let’s walk and talk.”

Tara’s really no good at this personalized customer service stuff, but she follows Dark Eyes as the girl makes her way across the floor to aisle seven.

“See, you’re supposed to know about this stuff,” Dark Eyes says. “And I was wonderin’. What other tools do you have for—?” She makes a swinging motion with both hands, pushing her whole body into it.

“Gardening?” Tara asks, frowning.

“Right,” Dark Eyes says, although Tara suspects that isn’t what she’d meant at all. “That’s it. Gardening. You got, like... pruning shears? Wooden stakes? Hell, I should have grabbed that shit before...” She trails off with a grimace.

(Tara wants to ask "before what?" but she knows better than to pry into the past.)

They turn down aisle seven and Dark Eyes picks up the first axe she sees, turning it over in her hands and watching as the fluorescent light gleams off the metal.

“I’m Faith, by the way,” she says.

“It’s, um. It’s nice to meet you.”

Faith snorts and swaps the axe for one on the next shelf. “How much is this?”

“Um. Twenty-six ninety-seven.”

“Damn. You don’t have one for twenty, do you?”

Tara shakes her head. “Sorry. That’s the cheapest one. What do you... What do you need it for? Maybe you could find... something else?”

“Yeah,” Faith says, more to herself than to Tara. She looks up. “Yeah,” she says again. “I’m, uh... Hey. How about this?” She moves further down the aisle and grabs a sledgehammer off the display, giving it an experimental swing. When she turns back to face Tara, she’s grinning. “I like the feel of this.”

“Oh. Good," Tara says, baffled. “That one’s...” She moves closer and checks the shelf—“Nineteen ninety-seven.”

“Wicked.”

“Is-is that all? ‘Cause you mentioned before...” Tara’s voice switches to a mumble, “about gardening...”

“Nah. I was just, you know. Tryin’ to find the best tool for the job.”

“And an axe and—and a sledgehammer? Can do the same job?”

“Don’t worry about it, T.”

“I’m not worried,” Tara says, unconvincingly.

And she isn’t. Or at least, she’s not worried about what Faith’s about to do with her new purchase. She’s worried about the girl herself. She’s worried about what led her here, alone, to buy a sledgehammer in this big box hardware store with her last twenty dollars. Tara can see her aura: it’s dark like her eyes, but not because of the nature of Faith herself. The darkness is where she’s been. Where she still is.

What she’s running from.

“Come back anytime,” Tara says, as she bags the sledgehammer with the receipt.

“I won't,” Faith says. “Never look back.”

But she turns to wink at Tara before disappearing through the automatic doors.


	3. secret admirer

There’s a single daisy taped to Buffy and Tara’s locker on Valentine’s day.

“Ooh,” Buffy says happily. “Flower!”

Tara watches with a sinking heart as Buffy picks at the tape, removing the white daisy from its adhesive prison. Tara feels unwanted most days, but Valentine’s day always amplifies the feeling. It’s hard to celebrate your crush when you’re a closeted lesbian at a small-town high school.

“Oh—there’s words,” Buffy says, squinting at the tape. “‘For Tara.’”

Tara frowns as Buffy holds the flower out to her. The daisy droops a little in her hand. “Are you s-sure?”

Buffy shows her the tiny letters: they’re really there, ballpoint-blue and a little messy.

“Who do you think it’s from?” Buffy asks.

Something blossoms in Tara’s chest—small and fragile, like the daisy she holds between trembling fingers. She recognizes the handwriting.

She shrugs, but she can’t help a smile from spreading across her face.

“You have a secret admirer!” Buffy says, grinning. “This is exciting!”

Tara thinks about Faith Lehane picking a daisy from a neighbour’s garden and getting to school early to tape it to her locker. Faith Lehane, with her dark red lipstick and her combat boots. Faith Lehane, who had been late to first period every day this semester. Tara had noticed her, of course. You can't help but notice a girl like that.

She’d never dreamed that Faith had noticed her, too.

“Exciting,” she repeats, a little dizzy with happiness, and holds the daisy close to her chest.


	4. vegas with some critics

“You two—”

“I mean, I’d expect this from Faith, but _Tara_ , you—”

“Married,” Xander says, mouth wide like a goldfish. “In _Vegas_?”

“Um.” Tara looks down at her left hand, intertwined with Faith’s. “Looks like.”

“What’s the big deal?” Faith says, a little snippy. “T and I were already a thing.”

“Yeah,” Buffy says. “But _married_ is a little... well... a little bit of a—”

“A big deal!” Willow says. “I mean, you’ve been dating for like two seconds!”

Tara frowns. “Willow, this doesn’t—I-I mean, it’s not—”

“Any of your fucking business,” Faith says.

“We’re all just...” Buffy says carefully, “well, we’re... you know. Just a little concerned for you. ‘Cause we love you. That's all.”

“No,” Faith says, shaking her head. “Red doesn’t think I’m good enough for her ex. That is the deal—isn’t it?” She looks Willow in the eye.

“You’re reckless and impulsive,” Willow says, her voice steady. “And Tara doesn’t even like Vegas. So—whose fault is all this, really?”

“I don’t mind Vegas,” Tara says, still looking down uncomfortably. “I d-do like how bright it is.”

There’s an awkward silence then, which stretches on until Xander interrupts it.

“So, are you, uh...” Xander mimes pulling a ring off his finger.

“We’re happy,” Tara says, before Xander can finish his question. “Can you guys understand that? We’re happy, and we’re together, and we’re... we’re staying together.”

“I love Tara,” Faith says simply, addressing Willow again. “And this is our life.”

Tara looks up from the floor to meet Faith’s gaze. It was an accident, that this happened. But it wasn’t a mistake.

She loves her wife.


	5. t.hanks fr th mmrs

“This one!” Faith announces, picking up the first card that catches her eye and waving it in Tara’s face. “It’s perfect.”

It’s a black and white thank-you card with a photo of Tom Hanks’ face. The caption reads “T.HANKS”. Tara blinks.

“Um. I-I dunno.”

“It’s punny,” Faith says, defending her choice. “I’m not exactly shitting myself with laughter, though.” She sticks the card back on the rack in the Mother’s Day section. “It’s cool. We’ll find something better.”

Tara moves the card back to the right section and picks up a generic greeting with a cat on it. “Kitty?” she says, and holds it up for Faith’s approval. “It’s sweet, and who doesn’t like kittens?”

“You know I’m more of a dog person, T."

“We could get one with a puppy instead,” Tara says, putting the cat card away.

Faith shrugs. “Maybe. Hey—this one’s personable. Personalized.” She frowns. “Whatever. It’s fill-in-the-blanks. Like mad libs.”

“Mad libs?”

“You know. There’s a story, except bits are missing, so I go, ‘give me an adjective,’ and you go, ‘scared shitless', and you end up with somethin' like ‘the priest was scared shitless when the donkey fell tits-up into the pews.”

“Th-they taught you this at school?”

“Yeah,” Faith says, flipping open the card and contemplating the blanks inside. “Some kinda grammar lesson. Learnin' what a verb is. That stuff. What do you think? ‘Thank you for... letting us crash on your dirty-ass floor. We had a fucking blast rooming with the roaches while you and your chick were bangin’ on the other side of the wall.’”

Tara tugs the card gently out of Faith’s hands and checks the text inside with a tiny smirk. “I think you ad-libbed a bit with the mad lib.”

“Well I sure as hell ain’t filling in the ‘I really appreciated’ bit.”

“Maybe we need a different card,” Tara suggests.

“Yeah. Most of these are bullshit, though. ‘Your thoughtfulness is a gift I will always treasure’? Remind me again why we’re even buying this dude a card.”

“Because it’s polite to say thank-you—and because a card is cheaper than buying an actual thank-you gift."

“Right. And, uh—what are we thanking him for?”

“For letting us room with the roaches.” Tara sighs. “I know it sucked, baby. I’m not disagreeing with you. But it’s better than being at home, right? I’m thankful for anyone that keeps us together and off the streets.”

“Okay,” Faith agrees. “How about this one? ‘Thank you. You brought joy to our day, warmth to our lives, and happiness to our hearts.’”

“‘Happiness to our hearts’? Let’s not go overboard.”

“There’s a little slot for a picture,” Faith adds. “You could include that beauty shot of Harold the cockroach you took with the Polaroid.”

“Nuh-uh. I’m saving that for the scrapbook.”

Faith gives her a look.

“How about this one?” Tara says, picking up yet another card. “It’s kinda cute.”

“It’s not cute,” Faith says. “It’s awful, T. It’s fucking awful. Let’s get it.”

Tara grins, takes Faith’s hand, and pull her toward the checkout.

—

In the morning, their gracious host heads to the kitchen for breakfast to find an [obnoxiously yellow card](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/577748416767983627/775376355961339944/Screen_Shot_2020-11-09_at_10.08.07_AM.png) propped up against the fruit bowl, next to a dollar-store vase holding a single daisy. “Thank you Liam. You are 1 in a Minion! From Tara & Faith.”


	6. what you said when you tried to run away

“Are you going somewhere?” Tara asks, looking Faith dead in the eye.

“Just, uh. Out for a smoke,” Faith says shiftily.

“With your bag.” Tara doesn’t wait for Faith’s reply, sitting up in bed and hugging the sheets to her chest. “I’m not stupid, Faith. I know you’re leaving.”

“Last night was great ‘n’ all, T, but I—”

“I’m not trying to stop you,” Tara says. She’s still looking steadily at Faith, her gaze unwavering. “You don’t have to make up excuses.”

Faith turns away first; maybe if Tara can’t see her face, she won’t be able to look into her head like that. It’s eerie. Real fucking creepy, the way she can see Faith’s damn soul just by looking at her.

She can’t lie to that face.

“Where will you go?” Tara asks.

Faith shrugs and tries to look real interested in the lamp on the bedside table. “Somewhere hot. Maybe Mexico. Or—I dunno. Canada.”

“Do you like travelling alone?”

Faith doesn’t answer—just hefts her bag up over her shoulder and continues to hover by the door.

“I was thinking of... of leaving,” Tara says. “Also, I mean. There’s not really anything here for me. If you want...” She trails off, uncertain now.

“What? You wanna tag along?”

“Only if—if you want company.” Tara’s piercing stare has been replaced by something small and hopeful. “I’d rather leave with you than live here on my own.”

Faith thinks about it. About Tara, and her quiet certainty and her soul-piercing eyes and her soft hands.

“Okay,” she says.

Tara's grin is sudden and delighted.

When she pats the bed next to her, inviting Faith back in, Faith does what she’s never done before: she stays a little longer.


	7. tides

“T, are you watching the movie?” Faith asks, nudging Tara with her elbow. “‘Cause it kinda feels like you’re watchin’ me.”

Tara grins at her. “Your eyes are so pretty.” She giggles at nothing and snatches her beer bottle from the floor. “Mm,” she says, taking a sip. “Foamy.”

“Lightweight,” Faith says. She grins back.

They’re lying on their fronts, propped up on their elbows, watching some movie on Faith’s shitty television. Truth be told, Faith’s not paying much attention either; she’s too fixated on the feeling of Tara’s thigh pressed against her own, underneath the covers.

“I mean it,” Tara says. “You’re so... so beautiful.” She reaches out to touch the side of Faith’s face, making Faith freeze. “I won’t hurt you,” Tara says softly.

“I know that.”

“Then why are you... hmm, why are you doing that?”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You are.” Tara pulls her hand away; Faith wishes she wouldn’t. “Sometimes you just turn to ice.”

Faith looks away and reaches down to grab her beer. She gulps down the remainder of it and drops the empty bottle to the carpeted floor.

“Are you afraid of me?” Tara asks.

Faith scoffs. “Of you, T?”

Tara shrugs, then lets her elbows drop, crossing her arms and resting her head on them like a pillow, looking over at Faith with a little smile.

Faith echoes Tara’s movements, looking back at her over her arms. “It’s stupid,” she says.

“No it’s not,” Tara says, frowning. Her eyes are half-closed she’s so tired. “You can tell me. But—you don’t have to, either.” She’s slurring her words a little, but not too much Faith can’t make out every word. “I want you to feel safe with—with me.”

“I do,” Faith says.

“I mean it,” Tara says. She smiles again, serene. “You’re like... like the moon. That’s—that’s how beautiful... hmm.” She sighs. “Arm’s not... good pillow.”

Faith laughs and sits up to grab the pillows from the other end of the bed. She passes one to Tara, who manages to tuck it underneath her head, before lying down next to Tara again, grinning. “Tell me again how I’m, uh... like the moon.”

“She’s misunder... der-stood,” Tara manages. “‘Cause she lives in the dark. She brings light, though. And, um. Gravity.” Her eyes close slowly and she sinks deeper into her pillow.

“There’s... mm...” She makes a sound that Faith thinks sounds like “tides”, but she can’t be sure.

Faith pulls the covers up over the pair of them again—looks over at Tara and marvels at the sight of her with her eyes closed, messy hair in her face. Faith’s pretty sure there’s never been anyone as beautiful as this girl. She’s bright like the damn sun. And without her, Faith is pretty sure she’d be like the ugly plant she’d kept on her bathroom counter, which had withered and died without natural light.

Also, water. Probably should’ve watered it.

Faith is hyper-aware of Tara’s warmth next to her. They’re both in their pyjamas—a T-shirt and underwear for Faith, an oversized button-up for Tara—and the heat from Tara’s bare skin is like nothing Faith’s ever known. She’s never felt this comfortable before. 

The last thing she’s aware of before she falls asleep is Tara’s hand against her waist. In the background, the movie keeps playing.


	8. snapshot

“I’ll go on,” Tara announces, “but I’m not opening my eyes. Not even once.”

“Think about the picture, T,” Faith says, squeezing her hand. “Halfway down that mountain and—snap! The rest of us are havin’ the time of our lives, and you’re there looking all squinty.”

“We never buy the picture anyway,” Tara points out.

“A-And I don’t know about ‘the rest of us having the time of our lives’ either,” Willow says. She looks from Faith and Tara to Buffy. “Do I have to go on?”

“Yes.”

“But it’s so high!”

“Will, hundreds of people go on this ride every day, and nothing ever happens to them. It’s perfectly safe.”

“Some of ‘em might chuck up their funnel cake afterward,” Faith says helpfully.

Willow looks worried.

“You’ll be fine, Will. You have a stomach of steel.”

“I mean, I do better than Xander,” Willow agrees. “He can’t even go on the boat ride that just gently rocks back and forth."

“Yeah,” Faith says. “And that's why Xander wasn’t invited.”

They’re halfway through the line now, inching closer as people are ushered onto the roller coaster and the group behind them rushes forward.

“I kinda have a bad feeling about this. Baby?” Tara turns and takes Faith’s other hand, too, so that they’re standing face-to-face, hands clasped together. “I might sit this one out.”

“Me too,” Willow says quickly. “Tara, if you jump ship, I’ll jump ship with you.”

"You’d leave me alone with B?” Faith pouts.

“Hey,” Buffy says indignantly.

“I j-just never really liked heights,” Tara admits. “Or fast things.”

“C’mon, T, you can’t wimp out on me now.”

“And Will,” Buffy says, “I need you. Who’s gonna hold my hand?”

“You don’t need me—Buffy, you don’t even hold on!”

“Who needs to hold on when I have you to keep me safe?”

“Aww,” Willow says, smiling. And then she narrows her eyes. “Hey. You can’t sweet-talk me into this. I am completely within my rights to—to be a chicken. Nothing can stop me from chickening out.”

“You’re right,” Buffy agrees. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to go on if you don’t want to.”

“Okay, good,” Willow says.

She and Buffy look over at Faith and Tara, who had just reached a similar agreement.

“Guess it’s you and me, B,” Faith says, teasing. “You wanna hold my hand?”

“I’m thinking about keeping 'em up in the air the whole time,” Buffy says. “So unless you can do the same thing...”

“You callin’ me a wuss?”

Buffy smiles innocently. “I’m just saying you talk pretty big for someone who needs to hold onto the handles.”

“What? I don’t!”

“I saw the last picture. It was photographic proof of wimpiness.”

“Bullshit. I was just restin' my hands.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Willow and Tara roll their eyes.

They’re almost at the front now: one more group and they’ll be on.

“Okay. I-I’ll go on,” Tara says, changing her mind again. “But I really am keeping my eyes closed. And I want to sit in the middle.”

“Me too,” Willow says. “I’m sitting between Buffy and Tara.”

Buffy grins.

The gates leading to the coaster click open.

“I’m really glad we decided to do funnel cake after,” Tara says nervously.

They cross through the gate and into the row of four seats—first Faith, then Tara, then Willow and Buffy.

“Don’t about forget the picture,” Faith calls across the car, as the coaster starts to roll.

Tara forces her eyes shut.


	9. lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side Buffy/Willow in this last one!

“Are you sure we aren’t going overboard, sweetie?” Tara asks, looking with concern at the half-dozen bags of party supplies Faith had dumped by the front door. “I’m pretty sure they won’t be expecting this many balloons.”

“That’s why we gotta have them, T,” Faith says. She’s busy sticking streamers over the kitchen doorway, and doesn’t look up from her generous tape job. “Gotta go above and beyond.”

“I do think Buffy and Willow deserve a good party. It’s just that...” Tara trails off. Faith’s over-zealous decorating might lead to sticky walls full of thumb-tack holes, but her willingness to go the extra mile for her friends is so charming that’s she’s certain the other couple will forgive them, even if they do keep finding tape on every possible surface for weeks to come.

“What?” Faith asks, turning around with disappointed puppy eyes.

“It’s just that you’ve taken on way too many decorating tasks for just one person,” Tara finishes. “What do you want me to do? I can start blowing up the balloons.”

Faith lights up immediately.

“The red ones go in the front room,” she instructs. “And the black ones go in the living room.”

“Got it,” Tara says, smiling. “I’m not sure how many I’ll be able to do, but I’ll get started. We only have,” she checks her watch, “three hours left to get everything ready.”

“Damn,” Faith says. “It’s two already?”

“Only just.”

“And the food will get here at—”

“Five-thirty,” Tara finishes. “Don’t worry about it, baby,” she adds, before Faith can get her next question out. “They’re not going to forget.” She crosses the front hall and holds out her hand to Faith, who steps down from her step-ladder to join her on solid ground. Tara slides her arms around Faith’s waist and tugs her close, pressing a quick kiss to her mouth. “Don’t worry,” she says again. “Okay? It’ll all be perfect.”

“I’ve never done this before, is all,” Faith says gruffly, after returning Tara’s kiss. “I’ve never...” She stops and shrugs, but Tara knows what she means.

Never had a group of friends before.

“You’re doing great,” Tara says.

“Kinda feel like I’ve thought of everything,” Faith agrees. “But we’re wasting time, T. I got more streamers to hang, and you’ve got a shitton of balloons to do.”

They get back to work.

—

“Oh my God,” Buffy says, nearly dropping the flowers she’s holding.

There are streamers _everywhere_. Streamers on the windows and doorframes and doorknobs. Streamers on the curtains and cupboards and wall clocks.

And balloons. Dozens of them. (Faith had helped Tara more than a little.)

“Um. Surprise!” Tara says, emerging from the kitchen. “I know we told you not to expect guests before seven, but Faith, um—we, I mean—wanted to do something. For you. To make it extra-special.”

“Wow,” Buffy says. “Where's Faith?”

“Over here, B,” Faith calls, from under the futon in the living room.

Buffy frowns. “Why are you under my couch?”

Faith sticks her arm out, waving a handful of string lights around. “Gonna light it up from underneath,” she says. “It’ll be wicked.”

Buffy stares for a second, and then shrugs. “Sweet. The house has never been so decked-out before.”

“Where’s Willow?” Tara asks.

“She had to work late,” Buffy says. “Something to do with the computer program she’s designing. I think it was giving her attitude. But she’ll be home soon.”

She heads to the kitchen, and Tara follows, standing to the side as Buffy locates a large glass in a cupboard over the sink and fills it halfway with water.

“I don’t really have anything better to put flowers in,” she says, as she sticks the bouquet in the glass.

“They look nice like that.”

Tara sits down at the table while Faith finishes with the lights and Buffy grabs a second glass to drink from.

“So... this year. It’s been good, right?”

“The best,” Buffy says. “I can’t imagine life without her. Without... all of this. Hopefully I never have to.” She smiles. “You and Faith seem happy.”

“We are,” Tara says. “And I know just what you mean.”

“Hey, T,” Faith calls. “Need a hand.”

“I better go see what Faith’s doing."

“You’d better,” Buffy agrees with a grin. “And, before I go get changed into a more party-suitable outfit—Tara?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, Buffy. We’re both so happy for you and Willow.”

Buffy surprises her with a hug, and Tara knows that their efforts were worth it.

—

“Do you want to sit this one out?” Tara asks, when a slow song comes on.

But Faith surprises her by wrapping her arms around Tara’s waist and pulling her close, echoing Tara’s action from earlier that afternoon.

“Nope.”

“I know it’s not your kind of music,” Tara says.

Faith shrugs and starts to sway in time with the rhythm. “You like it. I like you.”

Tara smiles against Faith’s cheek.

“Buffy and Willow look beautiful.”

“Sure they do,” Faith says. “They got all these damn fairy lights shining on them. Enough to make anyone look like a princess.”

“Uh-huh.”

They sway from side to side, hardly moving at all, enjoying each other’s closeness. “It’s almost hard to believe they’ve been married for a year already,” Tara says.

“Time flies.”

“It does.”

“Almost makes you think...”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing,” Faith says quickly.

“Okay.”

“No, wait,” Faith says. “I wanna say it. And give me a slap if I’m wrong for goin’ there, ‘cause I’ve never done anything like...” She lifts one hand from Tara’s back to gesture vaguely. “Do you want this? Some day?”

Tara stops swaying.

“Are you asking me if I want to marry you?”

“What? No.” Faith shuffles awkwardly. “I mean, only if you want, ‘cause if you don’t I’d get it, honestly, T, I wouldn’t—”

Tara shuts her up with a kiss.

“I do,” Tara says, once they’ve broken apart.

“You do?” Faith says incredulously.

“I do. God, yes.” Tara can feel her eyes brimming with tears. “I’ve been wanting to ask, but I didn’t know if you’d even thought about marriage and—”

“Only this year,” Faith admits. “I never really believed in it, you know? Seemed like bullshit growing up. But B and Red...” She shrugs.

“I know,” Tara says. She smiles helplessly.

“Can we tell them?”

“Now?”

Tara looks over to where Buffy and Willow are still dancing, eyes closed, holding each other close.

“This is their day,” she says. “We’ll tell them next week.”

“Cool,” Faith agrees. “And—T?”

“I love you.”

“I know,” Tara says, and kisses her again. “I know.”


End file.
